A Piacere
by Arugentine
Summary: Drabble collection, just the norm. Each is less than 500 words. Warnings will include BL, Death, spoilers, etc. [020406: Library Conversation, The Years]
1. The Pledge

Disclaimer: D. Grayman belongs to Hoshino Katsura.

**The Pledge**

"An exorcist's duty is to fight the 'Akuma', created by the Earl of the Millennium and born of people's sorrow and betrayal." General Cross drops the rag into the sink, taking the hotel towel from its hook and dabbing it lightly across small, imperfect cheeks. Allen does not flinch as the water seeps into the cuts. "Have you fought an 'Akuma' already?"

The ruined arm hangs limply at his side, monstrous and ugly, dangling near this knee. Allen lifts large glassy eyes and quietly says, "Yes."

Cross raises a large gloved hand and lays it gently on Allen's head. "From now on, you will be fighting many more of them. That is our responsibility."

For the first time that night, Allen looks down at his freakish limb and runs his eyes down its bulky form from elbow to forearm to palm to fingers still slightly stained with oil from Mana's mechanical frame. It is heavy and cumbersome, weighing him down like lead. "Yes."

Cross turns and walks out of the small bathroom. Allen follows slowly, dragging his weapon. The sky is gray and promising rain. It is dark and monotonous inside the sparsely furnished room. "Allen Walker," and now, the boy winces. "Are you sure you want to commit yourself to the obligations of this job?"

Allen is homeless, fatherless, hopeless. "Yes," he says.


	2. Innocent

Disclaimer: D. Grayman belongs to Hoshino Katsura.

**Innocent**

There was blood on the floor, thick, black and spread like paint. The akuma's body laid mangled, in deformed pieces and gruesome shreds. The civilians had no remains, blasted into dust when the first attack was launched.

Rinali was limping; her injured leg making her stumble. Rabi lay on his back, trying to breathe despite his broken ribs. Kanda sat with arms wrapped around the bleeding cut in his side.

Allen stood knee-deep in ashes and dirt, studying the small glowing block in his cursed hand and wondered what was so innocent about this.


	3. Parting

Disclaimer: D. Grayman belongs to Hoshino Katsura.   
Warnings: Rabi/Kanda/Allen.

**Parting**

There is a lull in the fighting. The air is still riddled with tension, and all the Dark Order can do is breathe in fear and exhale bravery. Mankind may cower, but they cannot even afford to flinch, branded by the cross over their hearts.

It is a time of desperate Lasts – last hours, last indulgences, last kisses and last chances. Some walk away knowing that they will never come back. Some walk away praying that they will. Headquarters is already full of coffins that hold nothing but ashes.

They met when they were children, but now they are men. Rabi has long since lost the battle with indifferent observation. He has friends and lovers in this war. Kanda knows that tomorrow will be his death day. There is only one petal left. Allen hopes and hopes and hopes.

They sit quietly in different corners of the room – Allen on the bed, Rabi by the door and Kanda at the table. The silence is filled with acceptance, pessimism and faith. In three minutes it will be midnight, and the last day will be gone.

At eleven-fifty-nine, Kanda stands and scowls. "This is useless," he snaps, trying to leave. Rabi stops him by taking his hand before he can reach for the doorknob. Allen runs and throws arms around both, trembling with worry and love.

"Please be careful," he says.

Kanda's face softens and he closes his eyes, drawing Allen near while Rabi drops his head onto his shoulder, running hands through short, pale hair. Sixty seconds is only so long. "We will," says Rabi softly, and that is their goodbye.


	4. End of the World

Disclaimer: D. Grayman belongs to Hoshino Katsura.  
Warnings: Rabi/Kanda pairing. Death.

**End of the World**

"Don't look, Yuu," whispers Rabi.

Kanda knows, without looking, that the Akuma are coming in hordes. He can hear them behind him, can taste death and iron and ash in his mouth. Kanda has never needed protection. He still doesn't, but he lets Rabi wrap one arm around his waist, burrowing the other in his dirty hair, and pull him near. Rabi is warm. He is alive and he is real, watching death approach on the horizon but turning Kanda's head the other way.

Kanda bleeds from the wound in his stomach and his reserve has long since been depleted, like a cat on his last life. His vision is spotty in places and he shivers, though there is fire everywhere. Rabi sits and lets blood drip down his face, his mangled leg making it impossible to run, though he has nowhere to run to. So, he holds what is most precious to him close and stares ahead, unafraid. There are worse ways, he thinks optimistically, to go.

The Akuma advance, screeching and shrieking like rabid animals. They leave destruction and the apocalypse in their wake. When they laugh, it is a mad joy that escapes their distorted mouths. Somewhere, the Earl grins, not like a madman, but as one. He did not need the Heart. Humans had so much despair; they crushed themselves with it. Noah's family rejoices. They watched the world end in water once, and now they watch it burn away. Everything is aflame and Kanda still feels cold.

"Rabi too," he says with difficulty, pushing off slightly so that Rabi can see his face. He cups the redhead's face in his soiled hands and forces their eyes to meet. His face is tired and frowning. He has always looked this way. "You also," he repeats slowly, because it is difficult to breathe and harder yet to speak, "should not look." A Level Four Akuma spots the two of them, and dives, claws outstretched.

Rabi smiles. It is the last thing Kanda sees.


	5. Library Conversation

Disclaimer: D. Grayman belongs to Hoshino Katsura.  
Warnings: AU Noah!Rabi.

**Library Conversation**

Tiki reclines in the oversized chair, crossing his legs and leaning back against the velvet plush backing. The Noah makes himself comfortable, taking off his hat to smooth down his already perfect hair. He murmurs a quiet nonsensical noise of satisfaction, closing his eyes in the half-darkness of the unlit library, while a cluster of Tease play at his pristine gloved fingertips. He looks like Death, thinks Rabi, recalling illustrations in forbidden books.

Tiki is not a skeleton in rags. He holds nothing in his hands but disaster and a thousand beautiful black butterflies. He is made of blood and flesh and disarming smiles; he is mortal. He takes people's hearts, not souls, and he crushes the ugly organ with his fingers while it is still pumping. But the face is the same, painted with the devil's smile. The aura is the same, hanging thick and viscous, like blood and oil, above his head.

"What is it?" prompts Tiki, so deadly still that Rabi wonders if he even moves his mouth when speaking. The redhead shrugs because he is sure the man can see it even if his eyes aren't open. Tiki smiles, dignified mouth curling into a wicked grin with corners that twist like tendrils of smoke. "Because it is fun," he answers, hearing the unasked question. Rabi isn't surprised. "Because they are fragile, I break them."

Tiki is not an Akuma. He is almost human but is missing something essential. Rabi brings a hand up to the left side of his chest. Tiki laughs, amusement dark. He looks up, features obscured by shadows. "That makes no difference," he says, eyes drifting down to the splayed hand. "Aren't you the same as me? Pulses in our wrist. If we're cut, we bleed. Blood in our veins." The smile grows wider. "Blood on our hands."

Just like Death, Rabi thinks.


	6. The Years

Disclaimer: D. Grayman belongs to Hoshino Katsura.  
Warnings: Rabi/Kanda pairing.

**The Years**

**1.**

"This one is pretty," said Kanda suddenly, bringing his small hand down on an ink illustration before Rabi could turn the page. He traced the delicate lines with the pad of his finger, following the outlines of the white petals. It was shaped like the sun.

Rabi looked down, dropping the frayed edge of the yellowed paper. "Yeah," he agreed, skimming the printed text with his quick eyes. They crouched over a heavy leather-bound volume spread open on the floor, and read by morning light. "Did you have it in Japan?"

The Transfer fascinated him. He had never seen another nine-year-old in the Order before. He had told Bookman that he wanted to be that boy's friend. The old historian watched his charge with sad eyes and warned, "Be careful with human hearts, Rabi."

Kanda answered thoughtfully. "I think so," he said, still stumbling over the English syllables. His brows furrowed whenever his tongue grazed the top row of his teeth to churn out a clumsy 'th'. "We call it, 'hasu.' What do you call it here?"

Rabi eyed the bolded label by the encyclopedia entry. "It's called a Lotus," he read.

**2.**

Kanda received the Mugen when he was ten and still a child. The scientists watched expectantly as he gripped the black sword in his hands. The blade glinted silver as it touched his clammy skin. He was shaking and they thought he was afraid. He felt the cold metal against his palms and only thought, _I can kill with this_.

Bookman held out a hammer to his student, and Rabi thought it was a toy. He juggled it from hand to hand despite the elder's protests and said, "Why're you giving me something to play with if you told me to _grow_ up?" The mallet blasted through the roof. When Bookman dug him out of the mountain of rubble, Rabi grinned and shouted, "Whoa, that was cool!"

The Earl made forty-two-hundred new Akuma that year. Rhode was coddled and spoiled by her family. They held blue flames against her skin, watched it burn, and let it regenerate. The baby giggled because it was ticklish. Tiki got jealous and stole her kidneys out of spite, but they kept on growing back.

Allen Walker killed his father. He was picked up by a strange man with red hair and a black coat. "What an unfortunate fate, "said Cross.

**3.**

Rabi only visited the Headquarters after two years. He came back when he was eleven and found a dark-haired girl in Kanda's room. She glowered at him from where she stood with crossed arms in the doorway, frightening in her four and a half foot glory. "Uh," he said awkwardly, feeling shy and confused because she was pretty.

"What do you want?" she snapped. He thought it was charming.

"Are you," he asked carefully, "Kanda's girlfriend?"

She turned red in the face, and he guessed he had hit the nail on its head until she raised a foot and planted it in his stomach. He doubled over while she sneered down, indignant. "Watch who you're calling a girl, moron. Or I'll aim lower than that next time." Her 'th's sounded a little forced, so she frowned, creating little lines in her forehead from displeasure.

"Kanda?" Rabi tried.

"What do you _want_, I said?" Kanda repeated, exasperated.

Rabi stared, appalled. "No way!" he shouted, eyes wide. "You weren't a boy?"

Kanda did aim lower.

**4.**

He thought he was hearing things at first. He even went to the infirmary, only to be informed that he was worrying over nothing. It was still bothering him when Rabi deposited himself unceremoniously across the lunch table. "Aren't you going to eat?" said the boy, nodding at the fork Kanda was using to push around the carrots on his plate.

"I'm not hungry," responded Kanda moodily. Even at twelve, it was normal.

"That's not healthy, Yuu," cautioned Rabi, shoving spoonfuls of rice into his mouth. He looked up when he felt Kanda staring, and he mumbled with his mouth full. "What?"

"What did you say?" asked Kanda.

"I said it's not healthy," answered Rabi matter-of-factly. "It's not, you know. If –"

"No! What did you call me? Why are you calling me that?" snapped Kanda.

"Yuu?" Rabi frowned as if the answer was obvious. "It's your name, isn't it?"

Kanda opened and closed his mouth. It was. He had nothing good to say to that.

**5.**

They discovered girls at about the same time. While Rabi stalked the bottom of the stairs and looked up short black skirts, Kanda grew increasingly irritated with the second half of the human race. Because he got injured often, the nurses in the hospital knew him by name, and they pampered him needlessly. He hated their fussing and their smudgy, oily lipstick.

"They keep on trying to kiss my cheek," he complained with annoyance. He tugged at the bandages wrapped around his forehead because they itched. At thirteen, he was beginning to grow out of the genderless features that marked his youth.

"Yeah?"

Kanda reached for a knife and began to peel the apple he hadn't eaten at lunch. "So I don't like it when they try to kiss me." He flushed, feeling as though he were admitting something horribly embarrassing. He waited for the reaction with baited breath.

"Yeah?" answered Rabi distractedly, teetering on his toes. There was a blonde woman in a red dress leaning over the check-in counter. He could see down the front if he peered through the blinds at just the right angle.

Kanda stared at Rabi's back and rolled his eyes.

**6.**

Kanda found That Person when he was fourteen. A week later he lay in the hospital bed everyone had thought would be his deathbed and stared at the ceiling. Komui was newly-promoted and already sorting through paperwork when the door to his office opened and knocked down a stack of books nearby.

Komui pushed up the bridge of his glasses. He didn't look up. "Kanda."

"Komui," said Kanda by means of a greeting. "How do you revive someone from death?'

Komui stilled. "As an Exorcist, I'm sure you know the answer to that."

Kanda left without answers. A month later he fell mysteriously sick. Whey they took off his clothing to examine the cause, they found the tattoo emblazoned over his heart. Bookman's eyes grew grave, and explained why the Japanese boy would not wake up for another half a year. "He is killing himself so that nothing will be able to kill him later."

Rabi visited his friend every day, studying the peaceful face and hating the lotus flower.

**7. **

On the last Sunday of June, Kanda opened his eyes. It was seven in the morning and the room was yellow-glazed. He sat up, feeling awkward in his own body, because it had grown without him. There were still flowers by the bed, left over from a somber fifteenth birthday. There was something else too, and Kanda leaned down, placed a pale hand on Rabi's forehead.

Rabi mumbled, rubbing his eyes. He pushed himself up and looked at Kanda.

"_Ohayou_," Kanda said softly. His voice cracked, deeper than he remembered.

Stupefied, Rabi wondered if it was a dream. Three pinches confirmed that it wasn't. Kanda looked down at him with a weary adult's eyes, framed in sunlight and morning glow. "Yuu?" he said, awestruck. His vision blurred, and only realized after tasting salt that there were tears. Kanda smelled like sterilized cloth and sacrifice when Rabi wrapped his arms around him. "I missed you," said Rabi. "I missed you so much."

**8.**

Rabi left with Bookman for Eastern Europe in September and returned two months later, with an eye patch. Rabi wouldn't speak about it and Kanda didn't ask, but he noticed the blind spots, the barbed humor, the new indifference. "Why do you talk," demanded Kanda, leaning across the table and forcefully shutting the book in Rabi's face, "like you don't care about what the Order does?"

The redhead smiled a smile that was like a frown. "Because I don't."

Kanda stared at him, crushing the beginnings of hurt under his heel. Drawing back, he twisted his lips into something cruel and cold. He had mastered the expression long before he turned sixteen. "Oh." He left the library.

When he realized he was being followed, he turned and drew his sword. "What?" Kanda hissed, all venom and ire. Rabi looked sad, reluctant, resigned. He pushed the blade away from his throat and put their foreheads together, lacing his fingers through Kanda's shaking fist.

"I'm sorry," apologized Rabi gently, closing his eye. "I care. I care about you."

**9.**

Kanda had never been kissed. While he didn't much care about the matter, Rabi thought it absolutely scandalous. "Well," defended Kanda testily, seeking to appease the redhead into silence and not yet realizing its impossibility, "I told you about the nurses hanging over me when I was little. They kissed me sometimes."

"Where?" prompted Rabi. Kanda pressed his finger into his cheek, and Rabi sighed with exaggeration, throwing his hands into the air. "Then that doesn't count!" he said loudly. "You're seventeen! And you've never been kissed! That's so sad!"

"Who kissed you?" Kanda shot back angrily. He was offended, bristling like a feline, and did not notice Rabi staring at him strangely. "Your mother?" he scoffed haughtily. "Do you even know how to kiss someone?"

When Rabi grabbed his wrists and pinned him against a wall to answer that question, Kanda dug his boot heel into the other boy's toe until they parted, and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "What are you doing!" His face was red, his lips were wet, and he ran away. It was the first retreat of his life.

**10.**

Rabi buried his face in Kanda's neck and breathed in the familiar scent of sweat and sex. They were tangled in wrinkled sheets, discarded clothes and sore limbs. Tomorrow, come dawn, Rabi would follow Bookman to Italy in his research, and Kanda had an assignment in a cursed forest town. Slowly, surely, their fates were closing in.

"What are you laughing at?" muttered Kanda tiredly, throwing a hand over his eyes.

"You ran away the first time I kissed you," Rabi whispered, breath fanning close to the other's ear. Kanda could feel the grin against his jaw rather than see it, just like the low rumble of the redhead's chuckling. Rabi trailed his mouth down the bare neck while the body beneath him squirmed. Chuckling, he added, "You still do."

"Why are you remembering things like that?"

Rabi smiled, expression soft with an emotion they were still too young to fully understand. They were eighteen, barely adults. Within a week they would meet Allen Walker, and there would be no time for this. "Let me stay tonight," murmured Rabi, taking Kanda's wrist and locking their hands together. He brought it to his face and kissed the fingertips before leaning down.

"Do what you want," the Exorcist said, but he met him halfway.


End file.
